The Rewind Job
by sssms
Summary: A job gone bad leads to the team seeing a side of Eliot that only Nate has seen before.  The muse has come out of hiding to attempt my first Leverage fic.  No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: I do not own Leverage or the characters or Lucille or a GPS. Sighs...

Silence reined in Lucille 2.0 as the team sped toward the last known location of their hitter. Eliot had been running interference while Parker retrieved the files needed to take down their latest mark when the sounds of a fight broke out over the coms. Nate cringed and Sophie chewed at one previously immaculate nail as they recalled the brutal altercation that they'd overheard, followed by the silence. While waiting for Parker to make her escape and join them, Nate and Hardison frantically called out to their hitter to no avail. Fortunately, the tracking mechanism on Eliot's ear bud was still working. Unfortunately, the small dot on Alec Hardison's GPS screen was not moving. Even before Alec brought Lucille to a screeching halt outside of the run down warehouse where Eliot Spencer should be, Parker flung the doors open and leapt to the ground with Nate Ford on her heels.

"Parker, wait!" Nate shouted, barely catching the nimble thief by her arm and pulling her up short.

"NO!...we have to….he could be…" the blond stuttered.

"I know…I know, Parker, but we can't just rush in there," Nate conjoled. "Just stay behind me, ok." With a sigh, the mastermind turned toward the warehouse, dreading what they might find and wishing for once that he was armed.

As the pair crept into the all too quiet building, the scene they found was not what they expected. Three men lay scattered across the concrete floor. One was moaning slightly as if on the verge of waking. The second was breathing heavily through a bloody nose, but otherwise not moving. Nate could not tell if the third was alive or not, and didn't attempt to find out as he still had to locate his hitter.

"Over here," Parker called out as she wandered further into the building her eyes scanning the ground.

As Nate joined her, he could see that the thief was following a trail of tiny droplets of blood each a few feet apart. The trail lead down a long row of shelves into a large area that housed a maze of crates stacked on each other.

"Eliot!" Parker half shouted/half whispered, only to have Nate hold up a hand to silence her when he heard a faint sound that soon turned into the more audible sound of someone retching. The two looked at each other, then began weaving their way through the stacks of containers with more urgency. Both stopped short when they rounded one final crate to find Eliot hunched against the warehouse wall, blood tracking down the left side of his face from his hairline to drip from his chin, one hand on his left knee and the other holding a bloody metal pipe around 18 inches long.

The hitter bolted upright at the intrusion, wild eyes scanning the thief and mastermind, his grip on the pipe tightening.

"Sparky," Parker called in relief, stepping toward her friend, only to have Nate pull her up short once again.

"Ford…" the hitter growled out. "I should have known you were behind this."

Parker turned questioning eyes to Nate who remained silent, studying the man before him.

"What? You weren't satisfied when you nearly got me killed in Dublin?" The retrieval specialist grumbled, shifting his weight and giving the pipe an agitated wave. "Just stay away from me," he ordered as he braced his ribs with his right arm, then muttered, "I have to get out of here."

The light finally clicked on for Nathan Ford, his breath catching. The man standing before him was not the hitter he had been working with for the past three years, the man he'd been joking with just this morning. This was the Eliot Spencer he had known and chased years earlier, a very different and very dangerous Eliot Spencer.


	2. Chapter 2

The Rewind Job, Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage or any of the characters, regretfully.

Disclaimer #2: I cannot guarantee that the next chapters will come as quickly, but I wanted to get a little more of the story out there.

Recap:

What? You weren't satisfied when you nearly got me killed in Dublin?" The retrieval specialist grumbled, shifting his weight and giving the pipe an agitated wave. "Just stay away from me," he ordered as he braced his ribs with his right arm, then muttered, "I have to get out of here."

The light finally clicked on for Nathan Ford, his breath catching. The man standing before him was not the hitter he had been working with for the past three years, the man he'd been joking with just this morning. This was the Eliot Spencer he had known and chased years earlier, a very different and very dangerous Eliot Spencer.

Chapter 2

Eliot blinked rapidly trying to clear the blood from his eye. Nate Ford was crafty and in his current condition, the hitter knew he couldn't take any chances. In his current state, he doubted he could fight his way out of a wet paper bag, which wasn't a good feeling for a man with as many enemies as he had. His head was killing him, his vision was blurry, and he'd already vomited twice. These symptoms, along with the voices he'd been hearing in his head, were all sure signs of at least a moderate concussion or maybe a worse injury. He'd never heard voices with a concussion before. Even Ford's voice seemed to echo through his skull whenever the IYS agent spoke. Eliot needed to get out of here, so he could figure out what was going on. He had no idea what had happened to him, what job he had been working, or even what country he was currently in. He jumped, furiously swatting at his right ear with the heel of his right hand as a high pitched, accented, "Nate, what's going on? Did you find him?" assaulted him, causing the pounding in his head to spike. Nausea washed over him again, and he closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively.

"Sophi, not now," Nate whispered, his concern for his former adversary, now friend, increasing. He reached up, moving slowly when he saw Eliot's eyes snap back open to watch him, taking the coms out of his ear and holding it out to show the hitter. "Check your ear," he instructed, motioning toward Eliot.

Switching the pipe he still held into his left hand, Spencer reached up, frowning in confusion as he found the ear bud and removed it, then schooled his face into a mask of indifference as he studied the small device.

"Are you ok, Sparky?" Parker questioned, realizing something was not right with Eliot.

"No…," Eliot started, then hesitated. The blonde with Ford looked vaguely familiar, but Eliot's jumbled mind couldn't quite place her. "I'm confu…" the mask slipped a bit, before an angry scowl replaced it. "My head hurts," he growled irritably.

Nate wanted to roll his eyes as the stoic retrieval specialist refused to admit that he was confused, although he obviously was. He hoped he could get through to the hitter because he knew from past experience that he couldn't force Eliot to cooperate with him, even in his current state. He tried his best to reason with the injured man as a logical adversary, as Eliot didn't seem to recognize him as a trusted friend. "Look, Spencer, I know that things are a little out of sorts right now and you may not trust me…"

"Of course he trusts you, Nate," Parker interrupted, only to be silenced by Ford's stern look.

"But you need to listen to me," he began again. "The men who did this to you are still here and they'll be recovered soon enough. We need to get out of here." Nate held up his hands when Eliot started to protest. "You've said it before, I could never take you in, could never hold you against your will. That's still true. And, I don't want to take you in. I just want to get us all out of here. I know…I know you don't understand, but I need you to try and trust me. I can get you out of here and I don't see that you have any better options right now. You won't get very far on your own." Nate held his breath while waiting on the hitter's response.

Eliot contemplated for a few long seconds before fixing Nate with a glare. Despite his lack of trust in the agent, he knew his only other option was to try to get away on his own and lay low until he could recover. Disdain evident in his voice, he ground out, "If I go with you it's on my terms. You're not taking me in…and I'm free to go whenever I want. You double cross me, it'll be the last thing you every do."

"Fair enough," Nate replied with obvious relief. "You need some help?" He asked as the hitter stumbled forward a step. "Okay…okay…" he answered, backing away with his hands up as Eliot stiffened.


	3. Chapter 3

The Rewind Job, Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, any of the characters, or an SUV.

Recap:

Eliot contemplated for a few long seconds before fixing Nate with a glare. Despite his lack of trust in the agent, he knew his only other option was to try to get away on his own and lay low until he could recover. Disdain evident in his voice, he ground out, "If I go with you it's on my terms. You're not taking me in…and I'm free to go whenever I want. You double cross me, it'll be the last thing you every do."

"Fair enough," Nate replied with obvious relief. "You need some help?" He asked as the hitter stumbled forward a step. "Okay…okay…" he answered, backing away with his hands up as Eliot stiffened.

Chapter 3

Nate let the hitter lead the way, following closely behind him with Parker at his side. Eliot was still bracing his ribs on the right side, was noticeably limping on his left leg, and staggered every few feet. Somehow he managed to weave a path back to front of the warehouse. Nate was alarmed to see the man who had looked to be waking up when they entered now standing trying to help one of his two comrades to his feet.

The man, hearing their approached, dropped his buddy on his butt with a thud and turned menacingly toward the three, only to be stopped mid-stride as the pipe Eliot threw hit him directly between the eyes. The man staggered, then went down in a heap when Spencer's right cross landed on the corner of his jaw. Eliot nearly went down himself but managed somehow to stay upright and stumble to the entrance to the warehouse. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his face ashen, eyes closed, fighting the bile rising in his throat.

Parker hovered nearby looking like she wanted to help but was afraid Eliot might break if she touched him.

"Parker," Nate warned, more afraid that Eliot might actually break Parker if she touched him in his current condition.

Parker looked between the two, then took a step back.

"The van's right outside," Nate commented once Eliot seemed to regain some composure.

The hitter gave a faint nod, being cautious not to jar his splitting head, and started moving again. He stopped abruptly, a few feet from the van, when the door swung open to reveal a worried Sophie.

"ELIOT!" She shouted. "Oh dear," she started toward him, but stopped at the growl coming from her injured friend.

"What's going on, Ford?" Eliot demanded.

Nate, knowing this Eliot wouldn't recognize Sophie, was about to fudge an answer when Alec shouted from the driver's seat, "Nate, get a move on man. We got company."

Nate glanced at the black SUV that was screeching into the parking lot, then turned toward his hitter wondering if he could wrestle the man into Lucille. He was more than relieved when Parker simply grabbed Eliot by the wrist pulling him into the van with an "Ok…time to go now."

Nate jumped in behind them, slamming the doors. "Step on it, Hardison."

"Gladly," the hacker replied, nearly throwing Nate into the floor when he gunned the engine.


	4. Chapter 4

The Rewind Job, Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, any of the characters, or an SUV.

Recap:

Nate glanced at the black SUV that was screeching into the parking lot, then turned toward his hitter wondering if he could wrestle the man into Lucille. He was more than relieved when Parker simply grabbed Eliot by the wrist pulling him into the van with an "Ok…time to go now."

Nate jumped in behind them, slamming the doors. "Step on it, Hardison."

"Gladly," the hacker replied, nearly throwing Nate into the floor when he gunned the engine.

Chapter 4:

Squealing out of the parking lot, Hardison weaved in and out of traffic, unable to lose the SUV behind him until he sped up the first interstate on-ramp that he came to, interjecting the van into the middle of a funeral procession. A horn blared behind him briefly before the car's driver remembered that this was supposed to be a solemn occasion. Fortunately for the team, the vehicles behind the van were bunched together closely and unforgiving after Alec's stunt, refusing to let the SUV enter the highway. By the time their pursuers could follow, the leverage team was out of sight.

As Hardison practiced his escape and evade skills, Eliot sat on the floor of the van, bracing himself with his hands on the floor to either side of him, eye closed, his previously pale face turning an ominous shade of green.

Sophie's "he doesn't look too great, Nate," followed by Eliot's muttered, "m'gone be sick," spurred Parker into action. The thief scanned the van frantically unable to find Alec's van litter bag, finally reaching out to grab Nate's hat, deftly flipping it over, and shoving Eliot's face into it just as he began to retch.

"Oh..oh…that's just…. wrong, Mama. Wrong..," Hardison protested, seeing what was happening in the rearview mirror, unable to suppress his on gag reflex. Sophie looked on in horror, while Nate's face showed pure astonishment as his mouth opened then closed.

"What? You said you didn't like this hat anyway." Parker replied to Ford's unspoken question.

"He what?" Sophie huffed, glaring at Nate. "I bought that hat for you and paid a pretty penny for it."

"I never said…I didn't...I…" Nate stuttered, before Eliot's muffled "Le…me up" captured all their attention.

Parker released the hitter, patting his knee as he leaned his head back against the van wall. "All better now, Sparky?" she questioned. Eliot scowled at the blonde mumbling something about aliens trying to claw their way out of his skull, before closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths to try to calm his rolling stomach.

Seeing the pained look on Eliot's face, Sophie decided to drop the issue of Nathan's hat, for the moment anyway. They could discuss that later in private. Pulling out the team's first aid kit, she opened several four by four gauze pads and pressed them to the cut in the hitter's hairline before Nate could move to stop her. The reaction from the team's retrieval specialist was instantaneous as he grabbed the grifter's arm in a bruising grip, pushing her away from him as his eyes snapped open.

"Don't," Eliot growled, pushing Sophie further away from him, causing her to topple backwards onto her butt.

"Eliot." Sophie rubbed her wrist, aghast at the wild and angry look in her friend's eyes.

"Spencer," Nate warned, pulling Sophie toward him and further from Eliot.

Parker shifted a little, unsure how to react to the situation.

A heavy silence descended, only to be broken by Alec addressing the team's mastermind, "Ah…Nate…there's a hospital sign up ahead, you think we should stop?"

Nate didn't have time to respond before Eliot went into a tirade. "NO! No hospitals! Just stop the van and let me out. I can take care of myself. Stop the van! Hey, man, you hearing me?" Eliot shouted at Hardison, banging on the van wall for good measure and wincing as the sound reverberated through his concussed brain.

Nate shook his head at Hardison's reflection in the rearview mirror, trying to tell him not to stop and definitely not to mention hospitals again. He moved onto his knees, hands out toward Eliot as the hitter tried unsuccessfully to gain his feet in the still moving van. "Spencer, just calm down, ok. We won't.."

"Shut it, Ford!" the hitter snapped. "We're done…..just let me out of here….I'll…I'll be fine…I've had worse than this. " Eliot suddenly went silent as his hands searched the waistband of his jeans, then around his ankles, before he turned back to Nate and hissed, "Where's my piece, Ford?"

"What?" Nate now genuinely looked confused.

"My Sig, man." The hitter checked his waistband again. "I was carrying it….that's a $1200 gun man. What'd you do with it?"

"Whoa…whoa…" Nate tried to placate the hitter, knowing this could go from bad to terrible any minute. The other three team members stared on in shock. "I don't have it, ok. You think I'd be crazy enough to try to take a gun off you. Those guys…the guys that did this to you must have taken it," Nate improvised.

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Disclaimer # 2: I do not own a Sig Sauer weapon or any Sig Sauer merchandise or company stock.


	5. Chapter 5

The Rewind Job, Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, the characters, Lucille, or a Sig Sauer weapon.

Recap:

"Where's my piece, Ford?"

"What?" Nate now genuinely looked confused.

"My Sig, man." The hitter checked his waistband again. "I was carrying it….that's a $1200 gun man. What'd you do with it?"

"Whoa…whoa…" Nate tried to placate the hitter, knowing this could go from bad to terrible any minute. The other three team members stared on in shock. "I don't have it, ok. You think I'd be crazy enough to try to take a gun off you. Those guys…the guys that did this to you must have taken it," Nate improvised.

Chapter 5

Nate's quick thinking and persistence finally convinced Eliot that no one on the team had taken his weapon off of him or had any idea where it was. The hitter finally calmed down and now sat with his head leaning back against the van wall, apparently asleep, several bloody gauze pads resting over the cut in his hairline.

"Nate," Sophie whispered. "Why would Eliot think he should be armed? I realize he's confused but he doesn't even like guns."

Nate watched the man in question closely. He was fairly certain that Eliot would not allow himself to sleep while injured and in the presence of four virtual strangers, at least strangers to this Eliot. The hitter was probably listening to every word and movement around him, which might not be such a bad thing because Ford didn't lavish the thought of openly explaining to Eliot what was really going on. He spoke, not as quietly as one might expect, to the rest of the team. "I don't know. The concussion is pretty bad. I think he's somehow lost the last seven or eight years." At their confused looks, he continued. "Eliot may not like guns now, but early on….when I first met him…chased him….he always carried."

While Parker and Hardison didn't really look surprised, Sophie looked ready to protest, but thought better of it, asking, "So why do you think he's lost 7 or 8 years?"

"It's because of Dublin, isn't it?" Parker interjected. "That seemed to be fresh on his mind."

_Leave it to Parker to pick up on that. _Ford mused, before telling the story of one of his earlier interactions with Eliot. "Eight or nine years ago, Eliot 'retrieved' a very valuable Celtic cross for an Irish mobster. It just happened to be insured by IYS, so I was sent after it. By that time, Eliot had a reputation. He'd just recently taken on a whole squad of Yakuza to free a Japanese tycoon's young son. I knew how dangerous it would be to try to take him down and I had Maggie and Sam to think about. Sam was just a toddler. So I waited until the cross was delivered and arranged to "take" it back from its new owners. It was totally unexpected, which is probably why the mob boss assumed that Eliot had double crossed him. "

"Oh" Parker chirped, aware of the implications of such a misunderstanding.

"Yeah," Nate continued, "The boss sent his crew after Eliot….worked him over pretty good trying to get the location of their merchandise from him. In fact, I was kind of surprised that Eliot didn't come after me once he recovered. I never really considered that Eliot might be blamed or what might happen to him."

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Eliot leaned back against the van wall, eyes closed, feigning sleep. He needed time to figure out what was going on with Nathan Ford and this motley crew he seemed to be working with. The blonde, Parker, seemed harmless enough, but he was sure the one called Sophie was a grifter and he'd never trusted grifters. The driver…Ford had called him Hardison….was a total unknown. Even more perplexing was why Nathan Ford, who'd always been straight as an arrow, was associating with them and more concerning, why Eliot couldn't' remember anything after his last job in the Yucatán.

Listening to the discussion that was ongoing served only to confuse him more. He wondered why Sophie would think a retrieval specialist would have something against guns. Guns were a given in his profession. And Ford seemed to genuinely believe that he was having some sort of memory lapse and kept referring to him as Eliot, like they were good buddies, rather than Spencer as he had called him during their past interactions. To Eliot's knowledge the Dublin incident happened a little less then two years before, as evidenced by the fact that his right shoulder still throbbed whenever he stressed it. It was throbbing now, in fact. Ford had been correct about the damage done by Sean O'Cain's goons. Eliot spent eight days in the hospital in Dublin, before he was forced to flee to escape an attempted hit by one of his many enemies that had gotten wind that he was incapacitated. He'd had to hide out for six weeks afterward to regain his strength so that he wasn't an easy target.

Ford was right about another thing too. Eliot had come after him. He was scoping out Ford's house from across the street when he saw the insurance agent come out of the garage, pushing his young son on a tiny red tricycle. The boy's beaming face and high pitched laughter took Eliot back to a time when he was too little to pedal his own tricycle. The memory of his older sister pushing him across the yard while he squealed in delight warmed Eliot's heart and he decided to give Ford a pass, this time.

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Disclaimer #2 – Sean O'Cain is a fictional character and has no relation to any real Sean O'Cains.


	6. Chapter 6

The Rewind Job, Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own leverage or any of the characters. I do, however, have a picture of my brother pushing me on my tricycle and a very vague memory of the joy of those long ago moments.

Recap:

Ford was right about another thing too. Eliot had come after him. He was scoping out Ford's house from across the street when he saw the insurance agent come out of the garage, pushing his young son on a tiny red tricycle. The boy's beaming face and high pitched laughter took Eliot back to a time when he was too little to pedal his own tricycle. The memory of his older sister pushing him across the yard while he squealed in delight warmed Eliot's heart and he decided to give Ford a pass, this time.

Chapter 6

Eliot was started awake as the van he was riding in came to a stop, unable to stifle the groan that escaped as he jarred his injured ribs. He tensed as he realized he'd allowed himself to fall asleep and left himself totally defenseless for who knows how long.

"We're here….finally," the blonde chirped before she reached down, grabbed his left arm, and started hauling Eliot to his feet with surprising strength.

Eliot stumbled, his left knee swollen and stiff from the long ride, but Parker steadied him. "Here where?" he asked Ford as he reached the open door of the van that Ford and the grifter exited ahead of him. Looking around, he could see that the van was parked inside a narrow space that looked like it had been enclosed to make a garage.

"At my place," Ford announced as their get away driver, Hardison, joined them.

Eliot concentrated on stepping out of the van without falling on his face, leading with his injured leg, muttering, "good leg up to heaven, bad leg down to …" just a little motto a physical therapist had taught him years ago to help him remember how to climb and descend steps with an injured leg. Once he was steady on the ground, with Parker clinging only lightly to his elbow, he focused on Nathan Ford again. "Your place?"

"My place," Nate reiterated before turning toward an old service elevator. While awaiting the elevator, Nate looked back to see Eliot unmoving, seemingly rooted to one spot, and shrugged, not sure what to say to convince Eliot to follow him.

"What?" Eliot half laughed. "You expect me to go in there looking like this," he pointed to his bloody head, "and scare your kid half to death. I'm sure your wife will love that."

The thief, the grifter, and the hacker collectively held their breath while Nate's face became a mask of indifference. "Sam and Maggie aren't here," was all the mastermind said before entering the elevator, Sophie and Hardison following closely behind.

Eliot glanced at Parker, wondering what he'd said wrong, but the thief just shook her head and pulled the retrieval specialist toward the elevator.

XXXXXXXX

As Eliot entered Ford's spacious apartment, he silently chastised himself for agreeing to go anywhere with the insurance agent, particularly to his home. He knew he should be getting away from here to some place where he could hide out and lick his wounds, but his head was still splitting, his stomach still churning, and his vision still intermittently blurry. Not to mention he was tired and just wasn't up to the fight it would take to leave now. He looked up to see Ford, Hardison, and the one called Sophie standing in a semicircle staring at him. The lithe blonde was hovering nearby, but had let go of his arm. "What?" he growled.

"What do you need?" Ford queried, looking him up and down.

If he were being honest, he needed a hospital, but he wasn't going there. "Bathroom," he grumbled instead.

"This way," Ford motioned, turning to cross the room.

As Eliot limped behind Ford, he took in his surroundings. Kitchen to the left – well equipped on brief examination - knives – weapons - check. Windows behind a table – alternate escape route – check. Wall of monitors in front of a slightly worn sofa and chairs – interesting. A rather sophisticated looking computer system – good resource for intel – check. Stairs to a loft – possible alternate entry way and other unknowns – check.

XXXXXXXX

Eliot closed the bathroom door and locked it as Nathan Ford muttered something about getting the first aid kit. Glad to have a moment to himself to assess his injuries, the hitter moved toward the toilet. Concussion – check, bum shoulder throbbing as usual – check, broken ribs – check, sprained knee – check. Bracing one hand against the cabinet above the toilet, Eliot's suspicion that his kidney was bruised was confirmed as the previously blue water in the toilet became red tinged. His stomach churned again at the sight. With a groan, he rested his forehead against the cool cabinet door, his face paling as he broke out in a cold sweat. After finishing his business, he took a moment to compose himself before moving over toward the sink.

To say the retrieval specialist was shocked by his appearance was an understatement. The blood in his hairline, dried blood on his chin, black eye, and bruised cheekbone didn't bother the hitter. They were expected. What Eliot did not expect was his overall appearance. He could swear he looked 10 years older than he should look and when did his hair get this long? Studying his own face in the mirror he found a scar on his upper lip that he shouldn't have and another less prominent scar just above his left eye. Not to mention that he was at least 20 pounds heavier than he'd ever been in his life. He had no idea how long he stood, staring at himself in the mirror, a million thoughts flying through his battered brain as he tried to figure out what was going on and if he'd really lost several years of his memory. His musing was finally interrupted by Ford's soft rap on the door followed by his call of, "Are you ok in there, Spencer?"

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	7. Chapter 7

The Rewind Job, Chapter 7

Disclosures: I do not own leverage or any of the characters.

My apologies for the long delay in updating. It's been a busy few weeks at work and home.

Recap:

To say the retrieval specialist was shocked by his appearance was an understatement. The blood in his hairline, dried blood on his chin, black eye, and bruised cheekbone didn't bother the hitter. They were expected. What Eliot did not expect was his overall appearance. He could swear he looked 10 years older than he should look and when did his hair get this long? Studying his own face in the mirror he found a scar on his upper lip that he shouldn't have and another less prominent scar just above his left eye. Not to mention that he was at least 20 pounds heavier than he'd ever been in his life. He had no idea how long he stood, staring at himself in the mirror, a million thoughts flying through his battered brain as he tried to figure out what was going on and if he'd really lost several years of his memory. His musing was finally interrupted by Ford's soft rap on the door followed by his call of, "Are you ok in there, Spencer?"

Chapter 7

Eliot jumped at Ford's soft knock, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him and swallowing as his stomach threatened to revolt again. He needed to sit down before he fell down….he needed….he wasn't sure what he needed as he opened the bathroom door to find Ford and the blonde, Parker, standing in front of it with Hardison and Sophie watching intently from the background.

"You ok, Sparky?" Parker asked.

From Nate's viewpoint, their hitter certainly didn't look ok with his pale face and sweat beaded above his lip. Nate's hands came up as Eliot swayed precariously, but stopped when he seemed to regain his balance.

"I'm….I'm conf…" Eliot stalled, bringing his left hand up to the cut on his forehead.

"Your head still hurts," Parker interjected, allowing Eliot to save face. "That's ok. It'll get better," she added, wrapping an arm lightly around Eliot's back and leading him toward the couch. "You just sit and we'll make it all better."

Sophie and Hardison separated to let the two pass.

"Yeah, Man. It'll be ok. Just relax," Hardison added uncertainly, then moved forward to help as Parker eased their retrievalist down onto the couch.

As the hitter slumped into the seat, the hacker and thief both stepped back with a 'what now' look on their faces.

"Ok," Ford stepped forward, rubbing his hands together nervously. "First aid…let's see…" Nate looked from the first aid kit laid out on the coffee table to Eliot and back, unsure that Eliot would accept help and unsure how best to proceed since Eliot was usually in charge of first aid for himself and the rest of the team.

"Athletic wrap," Eliot huffed, seeing that his audience wasn't going away and knowing he actually did need help. Normally, when he was injured to this degree, he would call one of his medical contacts to assist. He knew a number of them around the world, their silence and discretion impeccable for the right amount of cash. However, in exchange for their silence, they also expected their patients to keep their services off the radar. Exposing one of them to Nathan Ford and his merry crew was definitely not an option.

Seeing Eliot struggling to remove his over shirt, Sophie moved forward to help, making sure the hitter could see her approaching from the side. She ignored his irritated glare, realizing that this concussed and amnesic Eliot was as stubborn as their normal Eliot, and helped ease the garment off his shoulders. She stepped back slightly as Eliot pulled his t-shirt up to just under his armpits, but wasn't prepared for the mass of purple bruises covering Eliot's right flank and wrapping around his right side and couldn't contain the, "Oh! Eliot!" that escaped.

Eliot scowled, but didn't comment, focusing instead on Nathan Ford, standing in front of him, fumbling with a roll of athletic wrap. "Start just below the worst of the bruising and wrap it around a few times…fairly tight, but not too tight…"

"Then do the same just above the worst of the bruising," Nate finished. Seeing Eliot's questioning look, he added, "I…ah…I've done it a couple of times…over the years." More accurately, Nate had wrapped Eliot's ribs a couple of times in the few short years they had worked together, that being one of the few first aid tasks the hitter ever asked Nate to help with.

Once his ribs were successfully wrapped, Eliot eased his t-shirt back down before looking back at the others, all four standing around him, their expressions ranging from slightly afraid, to concerned, to curious. Feeling the cut on his forehead again, he sighed. While he was usually capable of suturing himself up, between the dizziness and his ribs, Eliot knew that was not an option today. "Any of you ever placed stitches before?"

Sophie's quiet, "No..oh no, I've ever," was followed by Parker almost bouncing where she stood. "Oh! Oh! I made a sock dolly once…when I was little…of course I used my foster mother's sewing machine without permission…and Nate doesn't have a sewing machine…."

Eliot stared in stunned silence for a moment before growling, "There's something wrong with you." To his surprise the blonde's face broke into a wide grin and she practically squealed, "You're ok!" clapping her hands, before looking around at the others and adding, "He's going to be just fine."

"Parker…ah…why don't we go get some ice packs?" Sophie commented with a smile, ushering the thief out of the living area.

Eliot just shook his head before looking back at Nathan Ford, then Hardison.

"Uh uh…no..no..no.. Man," the hacker raised his hands in front of him, shaking his head. "Alec Hardison aint ever stitched nothin'…'cept a couple of quilt tops." At the other two men's' questioning looks, he defended, "if Nana told you to quilt you quilted…Nana didn't take no lip. But ain't no way I'm gonna be sewin' up nobody's head…uh uh…" the hacker gagged at the thought, covering his mouth with his hand, before heading off to see if Sophie and Parker needed help with the ice.

Eliot didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when Ford shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well I've never done it before, but I guess there's a first time for everything," before turning back to the first aid kit to gather the necessary supplies.


	8. Chapter 8

The Rewind Job, Chapter 8

Disclosures: I do not own any of the characters…pity.

Recap:

"Uh uh…no..no..no.. Man," the hacker raised his hands in front of him, shaking his head. "Alec Hardison ain't ever stitched nothin'…'cept a couple of quilt tops." At the other two men's' questioning looks, he defended, "if Nana told you to quilt you quilted…Nana didn't take no lip. But ain't no way I'm gonna be sewin' up nobody's head…uh uh…" the hacker gagged at the thought, covering his mouth with his hand, before heading off to see if Sophie and Parker needed help with the ice.

Eliot didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when Ford shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well I've never done it before, but I guess there's a first time for everything," before turning back to the first aid kit to gather the necessary supplies.

Chapter 8

Nate was concentrating on placing the second stitch in Eliot's scalp when the hitter spoke, causing him to jump. From the hiss that came from Eliot, he assumed the anesthetic he had applied to the wound beforehand wasn't working as well as Eliot was pretending. "Sorry. What?" Nate questioned, having missed the other man's comment.

"So...uh...how long have you been ...ah..." Eliot, unsure how to phrase the question, motioned over his shoulder toward the three in the kitchen.

"Working with a group of thieves and grifters?" Nate clarified.

"Uh...yeah...just never pictured you as the type..."

Nate chuckled, but there was little humor in it. "Yeah, well, people change."

At Eliot's skeptical expression, he added, "Sometimes people aren't as good as you think they are...or as bad as you think they are. Now hold still." Nate had decided that placing stitches was not nearly as easy as Eliot made it look. Fortunately the cut was in the edge of the hitter's hair, so they didn't have to worry as much about the scar.

After another fifteen minutes, that seemed like an hour to Ford, the last stitch was finally placed. Nate added a dollop of antiseptic ointment before stepping back and removing the previously sterile gloves he was wearing. "What now?" he questioned.

"Need to get a look at my knee." the hitter answered.

Eliot and Nate looked back and forth between each other and Eliot's knee a few times, each trying to decide how best to get to the hitter's obviously swollen knee. Nate, who was thinking that Eliot probably wouldn't appreciate being asked to drop his pants in the middle of his living area, breathed a sigh of relief when the Eliot propped his foot up on the coffee table and instructed, "Just cut my pant's leg."

Eliot did his best to examine the knee once it was exposed. It was swollen and bruised, but didn't seem unstable. Hopefully all his ligaments were still intact. He looked up just as Parker and Sophie returned with several ice packs and a bottle of water. Hardison sat on a stool in the kitchen, looking on at a distance.

"Looks like we are just in time," Sophie commented as Parker moved closer to their retrievalist, placing one icepack under Eliot's arm, along his ribs. She followed that with an icepack to his throbbing shoulder and another to his opposite shoulder. At Eliot's questioning glance, she commented, "Never know which one will be bothering you after a fight." Now that Eliot thought about it, his "good" shoulder did seem to be getting stiff.

Sophie set more ice packs, a couple of towels from the kitchen, and the water down beside the first aid kit, before nudging Parker back towards Hardison, muttering, "We should let him rest."

Nate folded one towel and placed it on Eliot's knee, followed by an ice pack. Then he carefully wrapped another roll of athletic wrap around the knee, testing the edges to make sure it wasn't wrapped too tightly. When he looked up, he was surprised to see their hitter studying the ear bud he'd removed from his ear earlier.

Pushing the first aid kit aside, Nate sat on the coffee table beside Eliot's booted foot. "Hardison's a real genius with technology."

Eliot glanced up, before looking back at the tiny object in his hand. "What is it exactly that you guys do?" He asked aloud, followed by a silent, "_And where do I fit into that picture?"_

"We provide leverage," Nate responded easily. "We help people who can't get help elsewhere." At the hitter's quizzical look, he added, "Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys."


	9. Chapter 9

The Rewind Job, Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Recap:

Pushing the first aid kit aside, Nate sat on the coffee table beside Eliot's booted foot. "Hardison's a real genius with technology."

Eliot glanced up, before looking back at the tiny object in his hand. "What is it exactly that you guys do?" He asked aloud, followed by a silent, "_And where do I fit into that picture?"_

"We provide leverage," Nate responded easily. "We help people who can't get help elsewhere." At the hitter's quizzical look, he added, "Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys."

Chapter 9

Nate spent some time telling Eliot about their team and describing some of the cases they had worked, hoping it would jog the hitter's memory. Although Eliot knew he wasn't thinking clearly and had lost some time, he was still very skeptical of the idea that he willingly worked with Ford's crew. He was also hesitant to let his guard down enough to rest, but Nate finally convince him that he would recover faster if he gave his body a break. So after being stitched, bandaged, and bombarded with multiple ice packs, the hitter had taken a dose of ibuprofen, having refused anything stronger, drank a previously sealed bottle of water, and stretched out on the couch. He had declined to remove his boots, propping his feet on the end of the couch defiantly, boots and all, much to Nate's dismay.

Nate had eventually retreated to the kitchen/dining area, content to watch Eliot from afar. It had taken almost an hour of shifting, muttering, and jerking himself awake with a groan, before Eliot finally fell into a deeper sleep. Now, nearly an hour and a half after Eliot's last restless twitch, the team debated who would get the pleasure of waking Eliot to monitor his concussion and the safest way to approach the hitter, in case he awoke even more disoriented than he previously was and lashed out at them.

Parker had wanted to poke him with a stick, literally. Nate still wasn't sure where she had gotten the three foot long ¾ inch diameter wooden dowel or what piece of furniture he had that might collapse any minute without its support, but the thief's proposal was soundly voted down by the mastermind, grifter, and hacker. After several more moments of silence, Nate finally noted that the eyes of all the others were now on him.

"Yeah, okay…okay…" he mumbled before heading over to the end of the couch supporting the hitter's feet. With a sigh, he reached out to tap the toe of Eliot's boot, ready to jump back out of range in case the hitter woke up kicking or swinging, only to be stunned when Eliot launched himself off the couch in the opposite direction, scrambling backward until his back met an oversized chair. Pulling his knees up to his chest and holding his hands up in a defensive posture, Eliot's wild eyes flicked around the room, although Nate doubted that he was actually seeing anything in the room.

"Whoa…easy Eliot…" Nate soothed, only to be interrupted by the hitter's raspy voice, his Southern drawl much more prominent than usual.

"McLean, Eliot S., Lieutenant Commander, born June 27, 1974. I'm requesting medical attention for my men in accordance with Article 15 of the Geneva Convention," the hitter rattled off, pausing to try to catch his breath.

"Nate, what in the world…" Sophie's question was halted by Nate raising his hand and shaking his head and Eliot, reciting the same information again, only this time in some Middle Eastern dialect that none of them recognized.

"Just stay back guys," Nate insisted, seeing that Hardison and Parker had joined the grifter behind him. Moving forward, he crouched cautiously in front of the hitter, just out of arms reach, hands out and open in front of him. "Eliot…" The lump in the mastermind's throat increased when Eliot flinched at the sound of Nate's voice, like he expected to be hit. "Eliot….it's okay….you're okay…I'm….I'm not sure where you think you are right now, but you're safe…ok…you're here in Boston….at my place…Nate Ford….you remember me, right?"

Nate held his breath, for what seemed an eternity, before Eliot lowered his hands and finally looked at the mastermind. Nate could see Eliot gradually coming back to them and was relieved when the retrievalist blinked and looked quizzically around the apartment.

"Welcome back, Sparky," Parker muttered from behind.

"Eliot, are you with us?" Ford hesitantly asked. "Do you know where you are?"

Eliot took several slow, deep breathes trying to get his heart rate under control. Yeah, he knew where he was now…still with Nathan Ford and his merry band of thieves. And they'd apparently witnessed him in the throws of a very vivid flashback. He hadn't had one in years and to have one now while he was so vulnerable…the hitter shuttered slightly before schooling his face into a well practiced mask of indifference. "Yeah, I know where I am." He fought back an unexpected urge to apologize for the scene, instead focusing on how he was going to get himself off of Ford's floor. After a couple of failed attempts due to his uncooperative knee, he gave a frustrated sigh and grumbled to the group hovering nearby, "You'd think one of you could give a guy a hand."

Nate, who had wanted to help but was afraid Eliot wouldn't accepted it, immediately stepped forward and with a few grunts of exertion and several grunts of pain from Eliot, finally, got the injured man back on the couch. "You ah…you need anything?"

"Not time for another dose of ibuprofen yet," the retrieval specialist answered, then focused on getting himself more comfortable on the couch, hoping Ford would take the hint and leave him alone.

Nate picked up several stray ice packs that the hitter had abandoned when he resettled himself and motioned for the rest of the team to follow him into the kitchen.

"Nate, what….what was that? Is he ok? Maybe we should insist he go to a hospital." a very disturbed Sophie suggested.

"No, I think he's ok. I think it was just a flashback. He seemed to have come back…well back to where he was when he fell asleep at least," the mastermind commented.

"Well that's good I guess. For a few, I thought he was going back in time…wondered what we were going to have the next time he woke up…a teenaged Elliot?" Hardison rambled, letting Nate know how much Elliot had just scared him.

"Or maybe a wee Eliot," Parker muttered, then smiled. "I bet wee Eliot would be fun."

"_Adorable,"_ Sophie mused.

"Well, let's hope we don't go there." Ford countered with a soft smile of his own, seeing that the easy banter seemed to be calming everyone's nerves.

"Wait…WAIT..WAIT..WAIT..WAIT!" Hardison clapped his hands with glee. "I told you guys his real name wasn't Eliot Spencer…what did he say…"

"McLean," Parker offered.

"That's it! That was it, Mama!" Hardison's eyes gleamed, "Oh, I am so going to have some ammunition by the time Eliot gets back to his normal grouchy self."

"Hardison!" Nate snapped, then lowered his voice. "Absolutely not. The last thing we need is for you to raise red flags by researching Eliot's name. The man has too many enemies to have attention drawn to him when he's down."

"But…" Alec looked like a child who'd just had his favorite toy taken way.

"No," Nate reiterated with a tone that left no room for argument.

"Besides, Hardison, Eliot isn't thinking straight. You can't take advantage of a moment of weakness and harass him about his real name," Sophie chastised, feeling a certain camaraderie with the hitter, having hidden her real name for years before divulging it to the crew, minus Nate.

"Oh, now, hold on. I may not go digging', but I sho ain't gonna pass up the opportunity to rib Eliot once he's better. Ah Uh, no way," Hardison mumbled on his way to the refrigerator for some orange soda.

PS. I do not think we will see wee Eliot in this story. However, if someone wants to loan me a wee Eliot after this story is completed, my muse might take him out for a stroll.


	10. Chapter 10

The Rewind Job, Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Warning: This chapter is somewhat darker than the previous chapters and some readers may find it and the chapter following disturbing. I have debated whether the rating should be changed to rated M. If you feel strongly about that, please let me know.

Recap:

"No," Nate reiterated with a tone that left no room for argument.

"Besides, Hardison, Eliot isn't thinking straight. You can't take advantage of a moment of weakness and harass him about his real name," Sophie chastised, feeling a certain camaraderie with the hitter, having hidden her real name for years before divulging it to the crew, minus Nate.

"Oh, now, hold on. I may not go digging', but I sho ain't gonna pass up the opportunity to rib Eliot once he's better. Ah Uh, no way," Hardison mumbled on his way to the refrigerator for some orange soda.

Chapter 10

_Eliot took a deep breath and mentally told himself to relax. As he looked through the telescopic lens at his target, who was enjoying the serenity of breakfast on his rooftop terrace, he could feel a few stray hairs brushing his right cheek, the uneven edge of the rock beneath him pressing into his left shin, and beads of sweat rolling down his back. He wasn't sure what had him so antsy and easily distracted this morning. It wasn't like Stepanov didn't have this coming to him. The man was basically a terrorist, willing to do whatever it took to take out his enemies, regardless of the collateral damage…women, children, babies…Eliot had no qualms about killing him, but something just didn't seem right. If Moreau wasn't already suspicious about General Flores' "escape," Eliot would call the hit off and come back on another day. As it was, he didn't want to give Damien another reason to doubt his allegiance and decided he needed to just get on with it. After wiping a sweaty palm on his shirt, he lightly grasped the stock, adjusted the rifle butt against his shoulder, and fingered the trigger. Sighting just over the low terrace wall, he centered the crosshairs and steadied his breathing…inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…squeeze…a wisp of gold entered the telescopic field and Eliot's finger froze a fraction of a second too late, the trigger pull weight of the weapon being light for a smoother shot. Although the gun had little kick for a fifty caliber, the hitter jerked back like he'd been slapped, staring at the sight before him, his heart pounding in his ears…._

"NOOOOOO!"

Nate dropped the book he was reading, Sophie let out a startled yelp, and Alec jerked, spilling orange soda all over his lap, as Eliot screamed and bolted to a sitting position on the couch. Parker jumped slightly but otherwise remained silent and still.

After Eliot's earlier flashback, it had taken some time for the hitter to fall asleep again. The team had settled around the apartment, watching and waiting. When the time came to wake Eliot again, the hitter still seemed confused, but knew where they had told him he was and gave them the right answers to their questions. He had fallen back asleep rather quickly and rested quietly until this latest outburst.

Nate watched the color drain from Eliot's face and was moving to his side when the retrievalist stumbled from the couch toward the bathroom, slinging the door open and sliding to a stop on his knees in front of the toilet. Gripping the toilet seat with his left hand and bracing his ribs with his right, Eliot wretched violently. The vomiting soon turned to dry heaves, interrupted only by the hitter's gasping breaths.

Nate stood frozen in the doorway to the tiny room, wanting to help, but not knowing how. After what seemed an eternity, the vomiting finally stopped, but Eliot continued to grip the toilet seat as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded, his muscles tense and his whole body trembling.

"Eliot," Nate soothed, moving forward cautiously. His hand barely skimmed Eliot's shoulder and the hitter jerked away with a grunted, "DON'T."

Backing himself into the corner, Eliot pulled his knees up, curling in on himself, his right arm still bracing his injured ribs, left hand grasping his hair. His eyes met Nate's for an instant before he dropped his head onto his knees. "Don't," he managed in a half sob/half plea.

Nate swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, instinctively backing away. He didn't even want to think about what kind of nightmare could put such a devastated look on Eliot Spencer's face.


	11. Chapter 11

The Rewind Job, Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the internet.

Recap:

Backing himself into the corner, Eliot pulled his knees up, curling in on himself, his right arm still bracing his injured ribs, left hand grasping his hair. His eyes met Nate's for an instant before he dropped his head onto his knees. "Don't," he managed in a half sob/half plea.

Nate swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, instinctively backing away. He didn't even want to think about what kind of nightmare could put such a devastated look on Eliot Spencer's face.

Chapter 11

Nate drowsed at his table, head resting on his folded arms. After Eliot's outburst, he'd dispersed the others, thinking Eliot would need some privacy if he got himself together enough to exit the bathroom. With Hardison owning the building, the other team members had their respective areas to retreat to when they needed to stay nearby. Alec and Parker had left Nate's apartment, each going their separate ways, while Sophie, wanting to remain close, was resting in Nate's bedroom. Nate jerked awake when the bathroom door opened, but stilled himself quickly, head still resting on his arms, wanting to see what Eliot would do.

The hitter moved slowly toward the center of the apartment, looking around for the others, but spotting only Nate. He starred at the mastermind for several seconds before turning toward the state of the art computer system and sitting in front of the keyboard. Within a couple of minutes he'd managed to get past the initial security codes and onto the internet. Typing in details he knew by heart, he pulled up an article describing the event that had haunted him since that fateful day…that would continue to haunt him until the day he died.

Nate watched as, after several minutes, Eliot shut down the internet connection and stood, heading toward Nate's front door. Not sure of Eliot's mental state, Nate sat up, clearing his throat to get the hitter's attention. Eliot starred for a long moment, before mumbling, "I just need some time ta think."

The mastermind nodded, sensing that Eliot's memory was much clearer and trusting him not to disappear on them. He sat drumming his fingers on his table top after Eliot left. Finally he sighed and moved toward the computer. Sitting down, he quickly opened the link to the internet, realizing that Eliot, despite being able to get past Hardison's initial security codes, had made very little effort to hide his own search. Pulling up the article that the hitter had perused, he read the headline:

**Six Year Old Daughter of Russian Shipping Magnate Killed in Apparent Assassination Attempt on Her Father**

As Nate read the article, bile rose in his throat and his chest constricted, making it hard to breath. He swallowed convulsively, not realizing he was clinching his fists at his sides. He jumped when Sophie's hand settled on his shoulder.

"Nate, are you ok?" the grifter inquired, concerned by the look on Nate's face.

"What?" Nate ground out, his eyes flicking to Sophie's before being drawn back to the computer screen.

"Oh, my," Sophie whispered, her hand going to her mouth in shock as she too read the screen. "Where's Eliot? Nate?"

Nate shook himself, rubbing trembling hands over his pants legs, before glancing up at Sophie. "He….he needed some time," Nate answered before hastily closing the web browser to get rid of the nightmarish description he had been reading and doing his best to clear any evidence of the search itself to keep the others from reading it.


	12. Chapter 12

The Rewind Job, Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or GPS.

Recap:

"Oh, my," Sophie whispered, her hand going to her mouth in shock as she too read the screen. "Where's Eliot? Nate?"

Nate shook himself, rubbing trembling hands over his pants legs, before glancing up at Sophie. "He….he needed some time," Nate answered before hastily closing the web browser to get rid of the nightmarish description he had been reading and doing his best to clear any evidence of the search itself to keep the others from reading it.

Chapter 12

Sophie balanced the bowl of homemade vegetable soup carefully as she made her way to Eliot's space which was originally a small corner office next to the stairs that lead to the roof. She wasn't surprised to find Parker sitting on one of the bottom steps of the stairs, almost as if she were guarding Eliot's door. It was late afternoon and Parker had probably been there for most of the day.

The morning had been strained to say the least. Hardison and Parker had returned to Nate's apartment to find Eliot missing, Nate drinking, and Sophie at a loss over how to handle the situation. Parker pulled out a lock pick and turned toward the door saying she'd check Eliot's room, but Nate stopped her with a growled, "NO!" followed by strict instructions that the thief was not to pick any locks or crawl through any windows to find Eliot. Parker and Hardison had exchanged bewildered glances, before Hardison moved toward his computer intending to track Eliot through the GPS on his phone. After signing on, Hardison quickly realized that someone had run a search using his internet connection, although they did a decent job of covering their tracks. "What? You people can't use your own computers for browsing?" the hacker groused.

Before Hardison could determine who had been on his beloved machine and whether that might help him find Eliot, Nate appeared at his side, yanking the keyboard away from the man. The hacker, grifter, and thief were all stunned at the vehemence in Nate's voice when he ordered that under no circumstances was Alec to retrace any searches done on his computer in the last 24 hours, mumbling some threat about destroying the whole system before taking another gulp of his scotch.

With a long sigh, Sophie looked down at the thief on the step. "Parker?" she questioned gently.

"He hasn't come out yet." Parker replied, looking from Eliot's door to Sophie.

"Do you think you could?" Sophie tilted her head toward the door.

"Oh!" Parker hopped to her feet excitedly, before her face fell. "But Nate said…"

"I know what he said, Parker. But Eliot needs to eat. I'm just going to check on him and leave this soup."

"Eliot's special vegetable soup," Parker smiled. "That should make him feel better." Nodding her head in decision, she moved toward the door and made short work of the lock before stepping back to let Sophie enter.

Sophie knocked slightly on the door to alert the hitter to her presence before cautiously stepping inside. Eliot was sitting in his leather recliner, his feet up, staring out the window in front of him. As Sophie approached his side, he didn't acknowledge the grifter.

"Eliot, I brought you some of your homemade soup. I'll just set it right here," she commented, placing the bowl on the small end table beside Eliot's chair. The dejected look on the man's face broke her heart and Sophie couldn't stop herself from placing her hand on his forearm and giving a gentle squeeze.

Eliot closed his eyes for a moment, before he rested his other hand over Sophie's with a whispered, "Thanks, Soph."

Sophie was sure there had been recognition in Eliot's voice when he addressed her, giving her a measure of hope that their hitter was recovering the memories of his team and not just the horrors of his worst nightmares. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No," Eliot answered, before adding, "I'm just going to rest up here for a day or two and then I'll be on my way."

Sophie opened her mouth to protest that declaration, but decided to leave it be for now, hoping that with a little time Eliot would change his mind on his own or Nate would get himself together enough to talk some sense into him.

XXXXX

At noon the following day, Sophie stormed into Nate's apartment. Her anger flared as she saw their mastermind sitting at his table, a glass in one hand and a half empty bottle of Scotch in the other, much like he'd spent the majority of the previous day. She had just come from Eliot's room where she had found the man hobbling around, packing the few things that he kept there. She'd tried to convince him that he shouldn't leave only to be rebuffed by Eliot's gentle insistence that he had to go and he'd be leaving the following morning. Sophie was certain that he wasn't just talking about leaving to go to one of the houses he kept, but leaving the team for good.

"Nate, you have got to do something before its too late and Eliot is gone," the grifter pleaded.

"Maybe it's already too late," Nate muttered, taking another sip from his glass.

"What? Nate, you can't mean that…you…"

"Why can't I mean that? HE MURDERED A CHILD, SOPHIE!" the mastermind shouted, gripping the bottle in his hand until his knuckles turned white. "A child, Sophie….an innocent little girl…"

"Nathan Ford, you know Eliot would never have hurt that little girl on purpose. It was an accident." Sophie insisted.

Nate shook his head and laughed wryly. "AN ACCIDENT? He killed that girl during another criminal act, Sophie. An assassination attempt….that's capital murder, or it would have been in this country. Still murder anyway you look at it…."

"Nate, please. Don't do this. Eliot needs his friends…his family right now," Sophie pleaded. "His emotions are still raw from the head injury, remembering this…event...without his walls up. He's torturing himself…."

"Good," Nate replied with little emotion, pouring himself another drink.

"Nathan, you can't mean that." When the mastermind didn't reply, Sophie's frustration escalated. "NATE! Eliot doesn't need you condemning him as well right now; he's doing a good enough job of that by himself. You of all people should know the damage a man can do to himself over the death of a child!" Realizing what she had said, Sophie covered her mouth with her hand as Nate froze, staring into his glass.

"Get out!" the mastermind hissed.

"Nate, I'm…"

"OUT!" Nate shouted, throwing the bottle of Scotch against the nearest wall.


	13. Chapter 13

The Rewind Job, Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Warnings: For a character wishing himself harm and potentially disturbing imagery.

Recap:

"Nathan, you can't mean that." When the mastermind didn't reply, Sophie's frustration escalated. "NATE! Eliot doesn't need you condemning him as well right now; he's doing a good enough job of that by himself. You of all people should know the damage a man can do to himself over the death of a child!" Realizing what she had said, Sophie covered her mouth with her hand as Nate froze, staring into his glass.

"Get out!" the mastermind hissed.

"Nate, I'm…"

"OUT!" Nate shouted, throwing the bottle of Scotch against the nearest wall.

Chapter 13

As Nate stepped out onto the roof, he was met by a gentle breeze. The look on Sophie's face when he'd thrown the Scotch bottle earlier that day had been sobering enough that Nate had not gone down to the bar to replace it. A part of Nate knew that his reaction over the past two days had been unreasonable. He knew that Eliot would never hurt a child on purpose. He'd seen that in the way Eliot interacted with children during their cases. Still, Eliot had killed that little girl and Nate had a difficult time just letting that go. Of course, the mastermind also knew that Sophie was right. Eliot would punish himself much more than Nate ever could. With his current injuries, the walls the hitter had erected to shield himself from his own past deeds would be down. Eliot would need his friends right now, and yes, Nate was Eliot's friend and Eliot his. The mastermind could acknowledge that now. Still Nate needed to know why …to understand how it had happened, which was why he was seeking their hitter out on the roof of the building at almost midnight.

Eliot was sitting in a cast iron patio chair beside the small herb garden that he'd been cultivating for the last several months. The hitter didn't acknowledge the mastermind as he sat in the empty chair beside him. The two sat in silence for several minutes overlooking the city. "I just need to….I want to understand," Nate finally spoke.

Another couple of minutes passed before Eliot began to explain. "I first met Damien in Croatia. But he didn't go by Damien then. His real name was Damirko Milanović. He was a lieutenant with a Croatian special operations company. I was attached to their group. I could never remember Damirko, so I just started calling him Damien. We got trapped behind enemy lines for three weeks during the thick of the fighting. Damien had a bullet in him and I thought I was gonna lose him a couple of times. But he pulled through and we finally managed to get back to our base. Damien credited me with saving his life and he returned the favor a few years later."

Eliot shifted in his seat, twisting a Rosemary leaf between his fingers. "I went in with a team of three others, running reconnaissance on a terrorist group. The mission was off the record, of course. If something went wrong, we were on our own. As far as the government was concerned, they knew nothing about us or the mission. Things went downhill in a hurry. We were captured and taken to an old, supposedly abandoned prison. One of the guys was wounded and died two days after we were taken. Another survived three weeks. Our captors were more careful with their 'interviewing techiniques' after that. Almost three months in, the youngest of us flipped out and managed to grab a weapon off one of the guards, but was shot. I had spent the last couple of months telling myself that if I held on, I'd catch a break and find a way to get the kid home. I…gave up after that…actually tried to push the guards to a point where they'd finish me off. They nearly beat me to death a couple of times, but always stopped short.

Damien had left Croatia after the war with a handful of his best men, changed his name, and was working his way up in the world by legitimate and not so legitimate means. One of his men had been captured by the same group. And Damien, still a warrior at heart in those days, came after him. They breached my cell looking for their man and Damien almost didn't recognize me or what was left of me. Luckily he did. There wasn't a prettier sight in the world than that hell hole being leveled to the ground by Damien's C-4. Damien took me back to his estate and hired a doctor, around the clock nurses, and a physical therapist to get me back on my feet. That took another three months. When I finally contacted my handler, he decided that I should stay in Damien's entourage and gather what information I could about Damien himself, but more importantly about his enemies. A few weeks later, Damien asked me to make a hit. Although he didn't say, he was testing my loyalty. The target was actually someone that the government had been contemplating how best to deal with, so my handler gave me the go ahead. The next target was the same, turns out a lot of Damien's enemies were also our enemies. Then came General Flores. Killing him wasn't an option per my handler or from my own point of view. I had worked with Flores before and knew he was a good man and a fine officer. I was able to warn him and make it look like the attempted hit had just gone badly. But Damien was still suspicious. Stepanov was a murdering scumbag and I needed to insure that Damien trusted me, so when he asked, I agreed to the hit. But that morning…something felt off…from the very beginning."

Eliot shifted in his chair again and Nate could tell that he was uncomfortable physically, as well as, emotionally. The mastermind remained silent as Eliot leaned forward propping his elbows on his knees and clasping shaky hands together. "She was six years old. The nanny told reporters that she had complained of a stomach ache that morning and had been allowed to stay home from school, although an hour later she seemed fine. She had snuck out onto the terrace, creeping along the wall to surprise her father. It was a game that they played. He always pretended he didn't see her until she would pop up beside him and kiss him on the cheek." Eliot paused and his voiced dropped to almost a whisper,"I…I didn't see her until I was already pulling the trigger…until it was too late and I couldn't take it back. No matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn't take it back."

Nate watched the emotions on the hitter's face and a part of him wanted to reach out to the man, to his friend. But Eliot's body was coiled so tightly that Nate didn't dare to move, much less touch him.

When Eliot spoke again, he had schooled his features, a mask of indifference firmly in place, his voice emotionless. "I gave up guns after that, in part because I couldn't fully control the weapon, couldn't stop a bullet after the trigger was pulled, but mostly because I didn't care anymore. And I walked away from Damien. I assumed he'd kill me before he let me walk away. I think he decided that it would be a greater punishment to let me live with what I'd done. He was right. So when he wouldn't put me out of my misery, I started taking the most dangerous jobs I could find." A mirthless smile crossed the hitter's face. "But my survival instinct was too strong. I just couldn't let myself be taken out, no matter how badly I wanted it."

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This chapter is a shout out to Goran Visnjic (who played Damien Moreau) who according to IMDb trained as a paratrooper in the Croatian army at age 18, and volunteered to stay on for an additional three months during the war with Serbia.


	14. Chapter 14

The Rewind Job, Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Recap:

Nate watched the emotions on the hitter's face and a part of him wanted to reach out to the man, to his friend. But Eliot's body was coiled so tightly that Nate didn't dare to move, much less touch him.

When Eliot spoke again, he had schooled his features, a mask of indifference firmly in place, his voice emotionless. "I gave up guns after that, in part because I couldn't fully control the weapon, couldn't stop a bullet after the trigger was pulled, but mostly because I didn't care anymore. And I walked away from Damien. I assumed he'd kill me before he let me walk away. I think he decided that it would be a greater punishment to let me live with what I'd done. He was right. So when he wouldn't put me out of my misery, I started taking the most dangerous jobs I could find." A mirthless smile crossed the hitter's face. "But my survival instinct was too strong. I just couldn't let myself be taken out, no matter how badly I wanted it."

Chapter 14

Nate and Eliot had sat in silence on the roof for close to an hour after the hitter's confession. The tension in the hitter's body seemed to gradually ease until finally he relaxed enough that his head bobbed. When Eliot's eyes snapped back open and he looked cautiously around trying to get his bearings, Nate suggested that they go back inside and get some sleep. As the mastermind headed toward the door to the roof, Eliot let out an exhausted sigh and rose to follow.

The next morning, Sophie entered Nate's apartment warily unsure of what she would find. She had already been to Eliot's room and noted that while the retrievalist was not there, some of his personal effects still were. She was surprised to find Eliot moving gingerly around Nate's apartment cleaning up Nate's mess from the last two days. She was about to ask where the man was when she heard the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the bathroom.

Turning to Eliot she inquired, "Eliot, are you feeling better?"

"I'm feeling a whole lot better than Nate is this morning?" Eliot quipped.

"So I hear. " A part of Sophie felt sorry for Nate, while the other part felt some small satisfaction at his obviously wicked hangover after the way he had acted the last two days. Hearing Eliot grunt as he leaned down to pick an abandoned kitchen towel up from the floor, Sophie fluttered to his side. "Eliot, you shouldn't be doing that…here let me…"

"I'm fine, Soph…" Eliot stopped short at Sophie's expression that told him in no uncertain terms that she knew he was not fine. "At least I will be…I'm ok, Sophie." He patted her arm reassuringly. "I need to start moving around more anyway…work some of the soreness out."

Both of their attention was drawn toward the bathroom door as the team's mastermind stumbled out with a groan.

"Nate, look at you." Sophie chastised, taking in the man's pale face and rumpled clothes.

"Sshhhh." Nate whispered. "Not so loud."

Sophie huffed, her hands on her hips. "Maybe you'll remember how bad this feels the next time you….." She trailed off at Nate's glare.

"I don't need a lecture, Sophie," Nate grumbled. "I just need some water and some aspirin."

"You need some food in your stomach too," Eliot pointed out. "What do you want?" Then with an evil grin he added, "I could order some takeout, Chinese maybe."

Nate's hand flew to his mouth as he gagged and turned back toward the bathroom, cursing Eliot under his breath.

Eliot looked at Sophie and shrugged his shoulders. The innocent look he gave her was the grifter's undoing and she started laughing despite herself. When she finally calmed, she wagged a finger at the team's hitter as she headed toward the kitchen, "Really Eliot…that was so mean. Let's have an omelet, shall we?"

After their omelets were eaten, the kitchen cleaned, and Nate settled on the couch with a bottle of water, his coveted aspirin, and an ice pack for his forehead, Eliot excused himself, assuring Nate and Sophie that he was only going to one of his safe houses to recover and that he'd need a week before Nate could pick another case for the team.

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One week later….

Eliot let himself into Nate's apartment with a couple of bags of groceries. He was a little early for the team meeting about their new case, but the hitter doubted Nate would mind since Eliot planned to make dinner for the group. After placing the groceries on the counter, Eliot wandered toward the couch where Nate sat with a cup of coffee in one hand and what looked like a photo album in his lap. Sitting down beside his friend, he grinned at the pictures on the page. "Sam was a cute kid," he offered.

"Yeah," Nate answered with a wistful smile.

"You know, he and that little red tricycle saved your life once." Eliot commented, pointing to the tricycle in the picture.

At that, the mastermind looked at Eliot and arched an eyebrow.

"After that Dublin fiasco," Eliot clarified. "Man, I had every intention of paying you back in full until I saw you pushing Sam…saw how happy he was. I decided to let you off the hook that time."

Nate looked at Eliot curiously. "The things we learn," he muttered, before a Cheshire cat grin graced his face. "Oh, by the way Eliot, you ah…said some things while you were concussed."

"What kind of things?" Eliot cautiously asked.

"Well, you ah…had a flashback or something…introduced yourself to us using your real name – Eliot S. McLean." When the look on Eliot's face turned all business, Nate quickly added, "Don't worry, I convinced Hardison not to do any background checks using that name, but I'm sure he's going to try to have some fun with you about it. "

Eliot relaxed, leaning back on the sofa and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, much to Nate's displeasure. "He can rag me all he wants, but I still get the last laugh," Eliot said smugly. At Nate's questioning look, he explained, "That's not even my real name."

This time Nate arched both eyebrows.

"I mean…it's my legal name," Eliot clarified, "but it's not the name my Mama and Daddy gave me."

At that, Nate gave Eliot a look that said there was no way the hitter could stop his explanation there.

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. He knew Nate would respect his privacy and not tell the others, but he'd kept himself at a certain distance from people for years. He wasn't used to opening up to anyone and he'd done a whole lot of that in the last couple of weeks. "My parents were killed in a car wreck when I was ten. After the accident, my maternal grandfather adopted my sister and me. He had two daughters and no sons and wanted a namesake. My father had been half Cherokee, part of the Eastern Cherokee band. My grandfather had never approved of Mama marrying him anyway and so he changed our names. My sister didn't mind because she'd been teased about her "injun" name at our last school. I was furious." Eliot shook his head and chuckled, "I was a burr under that man's saddle from that day on…anyway…Hardison can have his fun, but I'll still get the last laugh."

Nate was about to reply when with a loud bang and an "Oops" Parker fell halfway through the ceiling vent above Nate and Eliot's heads.

"Parker!" the mastermind and hitter growled in unison.

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The End. I hope you enjoyed.


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